


Build It!

by TakeTheShot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Absolutely no angst for once!, Bad bad puns, Booty Builder, Bowtie, Clint has a meltdown, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Avengers (2012), SHIELD Husbands, Slight Smut, flirty Phil, phlint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 01:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeTheShot/pseuds/TakeTheShot
Summary: Clint is heading off on an op, how does Phil make sure he's remembered while Clint's away?In which Phil is a bit sneaky and Clint has a slight meltdown.





	Build It!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this came about because I challenged myself to a) write something under 1000 words for once and b) to write a fic with absolutely no angst and c) write a relationship-confident Phil  
> And then the delectable Clark Gregg posted that video of his newest gym routine (honestly, if I knew how to post a link, I really would but you've probably seen the video I mean. And maybe even watched it a few times over..and over...and..over...ahem. If you haven't, google 'Clark Gregg Booty Builder' and thank me later). Well, the fandom lost it's collective mind a little, and I wanted to join in the madness. Partly inspired by a conversation and resultant fic on BeneficialAddiction's awesome tumblr (again I have no idea how to do links...help?) though our fics went in fairly different directions.
> 
> Anyway, I failed miserably at a), but I can tick off b) and c). Hurrah! I do hope you enjoy x
> 
> Agent Phil Coulson, do he got the booty?

It wasn't exactly strange for the main gym at SHIELD to be busy, Agents had to be in decent shape if they wanted to last more than one mission after all, but today there was an unusually social and giggly atmosphere. For Agent Clint Barton, who was really not in the mood (he hadn’t wanted to get out bed, hadn’t really wanted to come in today and certainly hadn’t wanted the mission assignment he’d just received), it wasn’t a particularly welcome change.  
“Agh,” Clint gestured to the gaggle of new recruits chattering away in the corner of the gym, “there are baby agents literally everywhere, what if we step on one?”  
Natasha, at his side as usual, sighed, “Clint, they’re actual SHIELD recruits, not ducklings. And it isn’t their fault we have to go out on op with Sitwell. Stop glaring at them and concentrate on your packing, we are wheels up in ten.”  
“Bloody Sitwell….” Clint grumped, pulling a last few things out of his locker and stuffing them into his kitbag. “He does not appreciate my ski….How am I meant to concentrate with the newbies all fussing? What are they all even making so much noise about?”  
“Oh, for god’s sake Clint…” she glanced round and snorted. “Well, it’s gym induction day and my guess would be that they’ve reached the Booty Builder.”  
“The what now?”  
“The Booty Builder. Its sales tagline is,” she marked out air quotations, “ ‘the original hip thrust machine’.” Seeing his incredulous face she added, “It’s for working your ass muscles.”  
Clint rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah Nat, you can take the piss but I’m not falling for it. Nobody builds machines for your ass. At least not ones that would be on public display in the SHIELD gym, am I right?”  
“ _You_ are a dirty-minded man.” She zipped her kitbag closed with slightly unnecessary force, “And you’re wrong. Which you’d know if you actually came to work out inside the gym more than once a year. It’s actually a decent bit of kit, good for the core, balance, all kinds of useful things. Not everyone prefers to exercise outside.”  
“You love my extreme parkour course. Fine I’ll go look at the damn Butt Blaster,” he stood and swung his kitbag over his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s very impressive.”  
“Booty Builder.”  
“Whatever you say.”

>>===>

“’Scuse me, pardon, coming through, make a hole…” Clint muscled his way through to the front of the twittering group of baby Agents surrounding the machine until he could reach a spot with a decent view. Which was precisely when his brain melted, because, strapped into the Arse Increaser or whatever the hell it was called, padded bar across his hips and thrusting skywards with a steady rhythm was none other than Agent Phil Coulson. The bastard hadn’t even changed out of his suit. He hadn’t even stopped lecturing the baby agents in his usual gentle tones about the ‘ease’ and ‘efficiency’ of the damn machine. It should have been ridiculous. It was absolutely not.

“Tasha…” Clint clutched weakly at Natasha’s arm, unable to take his eyes off the movement of Coulson’s hips and ass as they bucked up and down like the world’s most sexual metronome. “I’m dying…”  
She glanced sideways and smirked. “You’re drooling. Close your mouth Michael, we are not a codfish.”  
“I mean it…I am actually dying right now. Help me.”  
“Clint Barton you are so far beyond help you can’t even see it in your rear-view mirror.”  
“Naaattttt…..” Clint’s whine was cut off as Coulson abruptly stopped moving, un-strapped and dismounted the machine. Apparently unperturbed by the red-faced specialist and the smirking woman beside him, he calmly smoothed down his jacket and straightened his tie before continuing,  
“So you see ladies and gents, easier than it looks. I’m sure you’ll all find the gym here at SHIELD fully equipped for your needs. Shall we continue the tour?” He strode past Clint then paused, appearing to notice him for the first time. “Ah, Agent Barton, Agent Romanov. Shouldn’t you be heading to the quinjet? Sitwell has wheels up in…” exaggeratedly, he checked his watch. “Five minutes. Do have a good op. I imagine I’ll see you when you return.” He began to move his group of trainees away, ushering them off in front and Clint was still staring, open-mouthed when Phil looked back over his shoulder and threw him what was, frankly, a very lascivious wink. Clint groaned.  
“Ooohhhh, he is a bad man. A very, very bad man.”  
Natasha huffed a short laugh. “You’re the one who loves him.”  
“I know Tasha. Jesus, I know.”

>>===>

The op took a lot longer than expected (of course it did, Sitwell was running it) and they spent most of it stuck in a shoddy motel out in the middle of nowhere, bored and waiting for intelligence. Clint, haunted by the Tushie Trainer, Bun Booster, Posterior Perfector or whatever (he hadn’t exactly concentrating on the name at the time) and the memory of Phil’s hypnotically gyrating hips, was unusually grateful for the icy cold showers that were the establishment's norm. And for Natasha, who pretended not to notice when she had to shake him out of a particularly rhythmic daydream for perhaps the hundredth time to point out that they were, in fact, still on the clock. But he was still extremely glad when the op wrapped up and they were heading home. There were, after all, only so many times you could swallow back a heartfelt groan of ‘oh damn, _dat ass_ …’. Even for him, it was most undignified.

>>===>

Only a few hours later the ass in question was laid out before him, pale and peachy, an utterly delicious view from where Clint sat perched over Phil’s naked thighs. Its curves and smooth creaminess reminded him of, of…what were they called again?  
“Babe, what are those fancy ice-cream blob things we get at those expensive restaurants you like?”  
Phil’s voice was a touch muffled by the pillow he was currently pressed into, “Quenelles?”  
“Oh yeah,” Clint slid his hands up and round Phil’s cheeks and gave them an appreciative squeeze, “these are two quenelles of utter perfection right here.”  
Muffled or not, the laugh was clear. “Are you comparing my ass to food again?”  
“Only because I want to bite it.” Clint’s hands continued their ministrations, gently stroking and kneading, until Phil’s laugh turned into pleased gasps.  
“I would not say I have any objections to that course of action Agent Barton.”  
Now Clint laughed, bending to make good on his threat, kissing wetly up one cheek and across to the other and dipping his tongue briefly into the dimple at the base of Phil’s spine before setting his teeth into the meat of the muscle and growling, “Gorgeous.” Biting one last time, he made his way up Phil’s body to breathe hotly in his ear, nipping and kissing, mouthing and licking, until he lay almost flat against Phil, who trembled beneath him. “Absolutely gorgeous.”  
Phil stretched and rolled his spine, pushing back into Clint’s heat. “You’re not so bad yourself love.”  
“No,” Clint said firmly, running his tongue round the shell of Phil’s ear and revelling in the strained moan that the move pulled out of him, “I mean it, how much time have you spent strapped into that ridiculous machine?”  
“You…nngh, do that again…you shouldn’t call it ridiculous if you like the results.”  
“Phil,” Clint canted his hips, “I am stone-cold in love with the results. Not that your ass wasn’t pretty much perfect before. But…..” Rearing up he took another greedy look, “Mmmmmmm. Do you think I should give it a try?”  
“My ass or the machine?”  
“Well, I’m open to ideas,” Clint laughed, “but just then I was talking about the machine.”  
Phil’s answer was only slightly ragged round the edges. “In that case I’ll have to say no.”  
“No?” Clint preened, “You like my ass as it is, hey?”  
“Clint, love, your ass is a thing of beauty,” Phil replied his usual deadpan snark coloured only slightly with panting frustration, “but you have been away on op for three weeks and right now I can think of much more interesting ways for you to get that kind of workout.” He reached under the pillow and pulled out a tube of lube which he tossed back over his shoulder. “Unless that’s a problem?”  
Clint caught it, grinning. “Not even slightly, sweetheart.” 

>>===>

A good while later, Clint stirred from the depths of an extremely satisfactory post-coital cuddle to haul Phil closer and drop a kiss behind his ear.  
“Phil, does SHIELD have a good lawyer?”  
“We have lots of very effective lawyers.” Phil yawned, “And you need one why?”  
“Well, I think we need to take that Booty Builder thing to court. Because I’m pretty sure I just thoroughly demonstrated that _I_ in fact am” he copied Natasha’s air quotation marks, “'the original hip thrust machine’”  
There was a moment of astonished silence broken with Clint’s giggle and Phil’s heartfelt groan. “Clinton Francis Barton, in a history of bad puns, that was perhaps your very worst. And I am going to have to punish you.” He wriggled weakly in Clint’s hold for a second, then relaxed and yawned again. “Give me until the morning and I will challenge you for the title. Boy, you are in big trouble.”  
“I look forward to it very much boss.”  
“Honestly, it is such a good job that I love you.”  
Clint just pulled him tighter and kissed him again. “Yep, it is. It really, really is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yes, he dooooooo :D
> 
> Comments are my diet, I'd love to know what you think!


End file.
